The Foundling Bride. Helen Dickson
those he destroyed in his search to relieve the boredom which drove him like a sickness—a sickness that had possessed him ever since he was a boy.
‘Your words show you in a bad light, Edward. If you attempt to touch her again you will have me to answer to. She is not a prize to be conquered. I demand that you remember that.’
Edward’s eyes narrowed dangerously. ‘You tempt me to put you to the test just for the sheer hell of it.’
‘Lowena is a young woman of great intelligence and tenacity. She is vulnerable and, having played a large part in bringing her to Tregarrick, I consider myself to have an obligation to protect her.’
He’d promised Izzy all those years ago that he would look after Lowena, should she find herself alone, and he would abide by that promise.
‘She is a servant,’ Edward sneered callously.
‘She is also a human being and should be treated with respect.’
‘What goes on in the lives of those in my employ is no concern of mine.’
Edward’s eyes were as cold as steel as they met his half-brother’s, and the muscles in his cheeks tensed with ire. At that moment he saw that Marcus was every inch a man, and any questions he might have had over what might result from Marcus’s time in the Americas and his arrival in Cornwall were answered.
Edward glared at him as their eyes parried for supremacy in a silent battle of unspoken challenge. It was Edward who looked away first.
When he spoke the mockery was gone and his voice was purposeful. ‘I answer to no man, Marcus, least of all to you.’
‘I would not expect you to.’
‘Nevertheless I speak the truth. Lowena is very diverting—which you would know all about had you not gone away to widen your horizons.’
‘I was a soldier, Edward, fighting a war. Listening to you, anyone would think I had gone abroad on the Grand Tour. Unlike you, I had no estate to inherit and secure my future. I had to make my own way.’
‘Until Father willed the mine to you,’ Edward uttered sharply, the tone of his voice telling Marcus how much he resented that fact. ‘You must have known he would.’
‘On the contrary. But he knew you had no interest in it.’
‘Whereas you have?’
‘Of course. You always knew that. So did Father.’
‘Nevertheless, he should have made us equal partners,’ Edward retorted, his expression hardening. He suddenly felt at a disadvantage—a unique experience for him.
‘Has it not crossed your mind that his reluctance to do so might have had something to do with your tendency to gamble, Edward? With your impetuous behaviour and lack of judgement? With such shortcomings as those he might have thought you needed keeping on a tight rein.’
‘He trusted me with the estate,’ Edward pointed out, regaining his confidence.
‘Because he saw that as your right. The mine is a separate entity, started by his grandfather. I think Father knew what he was doing when he willed Wheal Rozen to me. From the report I received in America from the mine manager, I gather Wheal Rozen is highly profitable, so there will be no need to bring in outside capital for further exploration. So you see, Edward, you are not rid of me after all. But you can rest assured I shall endeavour to keep out of your way as much as it is possible to do so.’
‘Under the circumstances, that shouldn’t be too difficult,’ Edward said, getting out of his chair.
‘Since we inhabit the same house, it is inevitable that we shall bump into each other now and them.’
About to take his leave, Edward half turned and looked at him hard, a smug smile curving his lips. ‘The house? And what house might that be, brother? Tregarrick? This house?’ He laughed—a laugh that was brittle and without humour. ‘Of course! You don’t know! But then—how could you?’
Something dark and ominous began to unfurl within Marcus. ‘Know? Know what?’
‘Your mother has moved out to the cottage. Knowing how fond you are of your mother, and knowing you would wish to reside with her, I had your things removed from Tregarrick.’
‘Moved out? Did she go of her own free will or did you order her to leave?’
Edward shrugged. ‘Does it matter? She went, anyway.’
The knowledge that Edward had relegated his mother to the cottage angered Marcus beyond words, but he would not take him to task over it until he had spoken to his mother.
‘I will speak to her tomorrow, but before I leave for the cottage there is something I have to take care of.’
‘And that is...?’ Edward asked as his brother strode to the door.
As Marcus had expected, a servant was hovering in the hall should Edward need anything.
‘Bring Miss Trevanion to me.’
She stared, nonplussed. ‘Miss Trevanion? But—but she is in bed, sir.’
‘Then wake her—and tell her to pack her things.’
His tone of authority had the girl scuttling away.
Marcus went back inside the room and gave his half-brother a dark look. ‘If you imagine I will leave Lowena under your roof a moment longer then you are mistaken.’
Edward shrugged. ‘Do as you like.’
Without another word he turned and went out.
Marcus watched him go, but the rage that distorted his brother’s face was hidden from his view.
Marcus was unaware of how Edward cursed him, how his heart was dark and full of hate. Lowena’s beauty tantalised him, and knowing the jealousy that would consume him if he saw the woman he had decided would be his mistress bestowing her favours on his brother, returned from the war in America, he had decided it was not to be borne.
Plagued by what Edward might have done to Lowena, Marcus was impatient to see her—to see for himself the changes his brother had wrought on a girl he remembered as being as sweet and pure, with the smile of an angel and an unspoiled charm. As a child she had been shy as a woodland creature, her manner as graceful, with none of the world’s callousness to cause her heartache and pain. Time after time he had been drawn to her, but he had not explored his feelings because he had felt it wrong to do so.
She had been just sixteen when he had last laid eyes on her, when he had returned home on a brief spell away from his military duties. Her childhood had been behind her, and at that age she’d been old enough to be kissed. It shamed him to remember that the half formed young woman had aroused desires within him that, although perfectly natural, had made his sexual urge immense. But he was only human, after all, and a healthy and willing lover to any young girl.
Of course her age had mattered back then, and because she was who she was, and because he had had Isabel’s affair with Edward occupying his thoughts, he would not have touched her. And Izzy would not have taken kindly to him toying with the girl who was as dear to her as her own daughters.
Edward’s vitriolic insinuations and the dark shadow of the large part of Lowena’s life without him, which he knew nothing about, concerned Marcus more than he cared to admit. His heart twisted in fury at the image of her lying in his brother’s arms.
In angry frustration he turned his mind from his tortured imaginings and tried concentrating on the joy of her instead, determined not to let Edward’s words sour his memories of her.
When she appeared at the top of the stairs he found he had to test the accuracy of his memory. The sight of her stunned him. The young woman who descended, with her softly curving form, her glorious wealth of shining red-gold hair, its tendrils coiling like serpents down her spine, her stormy amber eyes shaded by long, curling lashes, and soft pink lips,